


Every Flaw A Silver Lining

by HungryLibrary



Category: Splatoon
Genre: F/F, Some Fluff, ancient old fic found buried under a pile of wips, background mention of eight, maybe hurt comfort?, some angst i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 08:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HungryLibrary/pseuds/HungryLibrary
Summary: Funny how sometimes the things you admire about someone can be the things they hate about themselves.Scratch that. When Marina's the one doing the hating, Pearl doesn't think it's funny at all.Or, Off The Hook has trouble finishing a song.





	Every Flaw A Silver Lining

Pearl’s pen taps a jerky drumbeat on the paper.

Supposedly she’s writing lyrics, coming up with strings of words that might catch on a beat and turn into something. 

What she’s really doing is just this: Sitting scrunched up at the end of the couch glowering at her own messing handwriting and trying not to check the time again. She’d go back to pacing the room except she’s already done enough of it to make her legs ache.

Marina at least is busy. Dark skin moves across white paper as she writes, erases, hums a tune that sounds great to Pearl but just makes the DJ’s eyes narrow behind her reading specs.

It’s been hours. Pearl, back twinging in sympathy as Marina folds herself over the coffee table, has no idea how she does it. Pearl would have given up ages ago, for her if something doesn’t feel good from the start then it gets tossed out, but here’s Marina slaving over scrapes, somehow taking the bits and pieces and stubbornly fitting them together until they shine.

Pretty funny, really. People say Pearl’s a natural with lyrics. Even Marina sounds awed and a little wistful whenever she gushes about Pearl’s last freestyle, the perfect words pluck out of thin air ‘like magic’.

Pearl isn’t sure so the words are perfect.

Or at least, not as perfect as they could be if she could do what Marina’s doing right now. If she could be brave enough to look at something of hers until she sees every last flaw, and then somehow see _potential_ in there instead of flat out failure…

She’s trying to learn how. The notebook propped up on her knees says as much.

There’s scratched out lines on it. Scratch out instead of erased because she’s still nowhere near Marina’s level yet, is just starting to figure out how to not ignore her mistakes.

She still needs clean paper for each new word. Marina can write over erasure smudges, can get frustrated and fold the paper up into a plane or a crane or a cat but still keep them around. Pearl wants rips her pages out and crumple them up when they get too full of x-ed out lines.

Her hand’s itching to do just that, her last snack break only half an hour gone and patience worn through fifteen minutes ago.

She wrenches her eyes off the paper and rolls over with a sigh.

At the sound one of Marina’s tentacles reaches back. The tip brushes over her knuckles and it’s gotta be an unconscious thing because Pearl knows Marina isn’t seeing or hearing anything except what’s in her head right now.

The hand holding the notebook unclenches. The tentacle finds her wrist, wraps gently around it, and Pearl feels her pulse slow under the faint squeeze.

It’s something she’s fallen asleep to and woken up with, a small touch from Marina, a check from the Octoling like she was making sure Pearl was still there. It’s something that’s made Pearl start to resent their time in the Inkopolis News studio with its giant ass glass window- Because sometimes she’ll see Marina fidget, tentacles slipping up where her hands manage to stay still and she’ll know Marina’s nervous, needs anchoring with a touch, is too shy to do it where anyone and everyone could see.

There are some definite downsides to their hard earned fame.

But they’re here right now, alone with no prying eyes to see, and it feels like being handed the world when she drops her gnawed-on pen to cup her hand around the little point of contact between them.

She’s learning about this too. How to reach back. How to hold onto Marina even while part of her is screaming that she ruins everything she touches.

The warning isn’t empty. Her track record for fucking up perfect good things, people, and bands is long and convincing.

It’s convincing to her, anyway.

To Marina though? Not so much.

And if Marina believes there’s something in her, in this and in _them_ , something worth sticking around for and working hard to keeping going- Then Pearl’s gonna do her best to try.

She trusts Marina. That’s one thing she never had to learn.

It goes both ways too, which is why when Marina erases the same spot for the fifth time in a row Pearl can gather up her courage and lean forward off the couch, draping herself over Marina’s shoulders in a loose hug.

“Hey.”

Marina, like expected, doesn’t even let her pencil pause.

“Hey yourself.”

“You’re tense.” Pearl gives the Octoling’s shoulders a little squeeze, counts way too many hard knots pressing back against her chest. “Take a break, nerd. You’re scaring the score sheets with your scowling.”

A little of the tension drains away as Marina leans back into the hug.

“I’m not scowling. I’m just staring with a killing intent.”

“Yeah.” Pearl can’t keep off the smirk. “I’m sure the paper finds that a shit ton less scary than a scowl.”

“Oh har har.”

There’s a snort as Marina reaches up and pries off her reading glasses, fingers massaging the dent left on the bridge of her nose. The little spark of fun is swallowed back up by the heavy cloud hanging over her.

Things might be worse than Pearl thought.

“It has to get done, Pearlie.” Cod she sounds so tired just saying it. “We need to start recording on Monday and the week’s already half over…”

“We’ll get it done.” Pearl promises.

Marina sighs, pencil disappearing into a hard-knuckled grip.

“We also still have to do the announcements.”

Turning Pearl bumps her forehead playfully against Marina’s cheek. “We can do those with our eyes closed by now.”

“The Salmon Run is supposed to be picking up again soon too.” Marina is only just getting started, fingers moving up to rub at the headache that was clearly building. “We’ll have our shifts, everything else will have to go on hold, and things always go to shell during a Run one way or another.”

“Could count as an inspiration workshop.” Pearl offers. “I always feel lots of emotion when fighting back waves of Salmonids with Grizz Co’s shitty weapons. Most of it’s just different shades of pissed off, but-”

“And then there’s Eight.”

That got Pearl to straighten up. “What about the Octokid? Something wrong?”

Marina gestures vaguely, glasses swinging dangerously from her hand.

“I don’t know. I want to think they know they’re more important than any song or gig, but… they’ve been avoiding us lately. Ever since that meet up we all had, when we were comparing crazy schedules with Callie and Marie, I think Eight overhead and took it to heart.”

“Shit.” Pearl frowns, trying to remember back the meet up in question. “I didn’t even fucking notice.”

“Or maybe they’re just off exploring and mentioning it to them will make them feel guilty about starting to get bit independent- I don’t know!”

This time Marina’s glasses barely manage not to go flying across the room.

Tucking herself in closer Pearl hums low in her throat and rocks them both gently side-to-side. Moving around always makes her feel calmer, she knows it isn’t the same for Marina but at least it might distract her a bit.

Seems like it works. Dropping her pencil Marina gives in and slumps back into Pearl completely.

“I just wish we could get this done.” The words come out slow and heavy, as tired sounding as the voice saying them. “To prove to Eight that they don’t have to worry, and to make sure we have more time for them if they do need us. No-”

Marina lets out a hollow laugh.

“What I really wish is I could _let_ this song be done.”

“How’d you mean?” Pearl doesn’t know where this is going but she gets the sudden feeling she won’t like. At all.

The feeling gets stronger as Marina turns her head slightly, just enough to hide her face.

“I wish that for _once_ I could be like you and just stop worrying about every little detail.” She says softly, dead serious.

“The ones that don’t matter, the ones that no one else will ever even notice. I wish I could stop worrying about things that might not even be real, making up problems, winding myself up to point where I make other people start worrying, like I am doing right now.”

“Hey no. I _like_ worrying about you.” This kind of freestyle Pearl isn’t any good at. “Fuck, wait. I mean-”

“I know.”

It comes out fond and sad, a twisted kind of bittersweet that hurts to hear.

“Sometimes it would just be nice not to be me.”

A hard lump rises in Pearl throat. 

The irony of Marina trying to wish away part of herself that Pearl loves, wishes she could also have- It hurts like shell.

“Our songs wouldn’t end up half as good if you weren’t you.”

“But they’re just songs.” Marina pushes the mess of papers away from her, too worn out to even manage a shove. “And I don’t do this just with them. Everything I do I end up overthinking, making things more complicated than they really are-”

“It was ‘just a song’ that helped you get away from Octavio.”

Heat burns through Pearl as she cut in- She is not gonna let this go any farther.

“And it was you being ‘like this’, overthinking shit, that meant you had those ink bombs ready when the coddamn apocalypse came knocking on our door. I had no fucking clue what to do when a giant slime-laser statue popped out of the sea- _None_ of us did. What saved us, and world, was the how you _do_ notice the little things and how you’re always thinking of ways to put stuff together.”

She’s doing her best to keep her voice low but the heat is creeping into it anyway, searing her tongue with what she knows is the absolute truth.

From the way Marina goes completely still she knows Marina’s hears it too. 

“So you wanna channel most of that into Eight instead of a song? Fine. No problem. I’ll drag you away from your turntables if I have to.”

Cod she’s probably saying this all wrong-

“But if you keep wishing you were literally someone else? _Fuck. That._ Keep that up and I’m gonna go fill the tub with Mayo and dunk you in it until you cut it out. Got it?”

Pearl feels Marina take a breath. She braces herself for- She has no idea, is terrified to see how she’s fucked things up this time, because that was a stupid way to say what she was really trying to say.

She doesn’t expect Marina’s breath to come out as a _laugh._

It’s a real laugh this time. A little raw but warm and wonderfully familiar.

Then Marina is turning her arms and Pearl finds she isn’t only half on the couch anymore. The cushions press soft against her back, the arms around her waist hug her close and Marina’s smile is ticking at her neck.

“What did I do to deserve meeting you.” The whisper makes Pearl’s skin prickle and her hearts thud.

Carefully she curls her arms around Marina’s shoulders, cups the back of her head, draws her in close as she can until she can’t tell which pounding heartbeat is hers.

“You were born.” Pearl whispers back hoarsely. “And I was born the luckiest fuck of them all, I guess.”

There’s still a hint of laughter on Marina’s lips when she leans up and kisses Pearl. Pearl tastes tears- She hadn’t realized Marina had actually started crying- But she gets the feeling the tears aren’t sad ones anymore anyway.

It’s not perfect. She’s still far from knowing how to do this the way she wants to, the way she _needs_ to.

It’s better than it’s ever been before though.

And for Marina, Pearl knows she’ll always keep trying.


End file.
